


Let's Get Unconventional.

by Berrychi84



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon!Stiles, Frottage, Implied Underage, M/M, shower scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berrychi84/pseuds/Berrychi84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek snaps under the pressure of being able to keep his pack safe and ends up pushing Stiles out of the pack. Desperate for approval, Stiles seeks a solution in some old books Deaton had given him, and ends up on the wrong side of a business deal with a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Get Unconventional.

**Author's Note:**

> So, wow. Okay. Uh, I wanted to write something for the Teen Wolf fandom for a while, and I guess it all kind of...came out? This is a really long story, but there is some smut at the end so if that's what you're looking for, you'll have to scroll way way down. The title of the fic comes from a line from the song "Just a Little Bit" by Kids of 88.  
> I took a few liberties with the demon stuff. The ritual and Latin is the same that they use in Supernatural, including the exorcism.  
> Sorry if any of this is a complete mess.  
> Oh, and sorry if the POV moves about? Its all pretty omniscient.

         Sometimes he felt weak. He could lie to himself and say his strength was needed in other ways, and he had his own little powers about him, but in the end Stiles just felt weak.

It usually came with a big event of sorts. Last time it was when he crashed his jeep through the warehouse to save the day, and Jackson still walked away with the girl. Time before that was when he watched Matt smack his father with a gun, and he could do nothing about it. The sensation of realizing how perfectly human you are is one of Stiles's least favourite feelings. He didn't want to he the hero or anything silly like that; he knew that was Scott's schtick, and he was beginning to think it was harder than the reward was worth. However he hated feeling left behind when it seemed like the rest of his friends were evolving into something _better_.

That's why when Derek called a pack meeting and “forgot” to invite Stiles, he wasn't as hurt. Derek did things like that from time to time. He knew Stiles would just tag along after Scott like it was no big deal, after all.

         “No, Stiles. Derek specifically said you couldn't come. I'm going with Allison and Lydia.”

         “Wait, they all got invited but I didn't? Who's all going?”

         “Actually...everyone except you, I think...” Scott scratched the back of his head. “He didn't say why, though...”

Now he _had_ to go. Stiles could usually put up with Derek keeping information from the group because that's the kind of terrible leadership they were use to. But he'd be damned if he was going to be the only one missing out on whatever information Derek actually thought he should share with the pack.

He really did think he could just sneak up on them. Sure, the old Hale house wasn't exactly sound proof to humans, and certainly not super-hearing werewolf ears, but Stiles really had hoped they were nicely distracted. The tree that he was brutally shoved into told him he'd hoped wrong.

         “I _told_ them you were not allowed to come. You didn't get an invite, Stiles, so why are you here? How hard of hearing are you?!”

When had the whole yelling-in-your-face thing become a turn on? Oh, right. Always. “You know, they might be plugged, seeing as yelling is meant for people at a distance, and you just do it in my face.”

         “I thought you'd be smart enough to take hints, even something as blatant as this. But obviously not. So let me be very, _very_ clear to you Stiles.” His face comes very close to Stiles, and the teen can feel Derek's breath hot on his face. “You are not pack. From here on out you are not invited to meetings. I don't care if you hang out with them at school or at their houses, but you will stay out of pack business. _Do_ you understand?” He punctuated the ending sentence by pushing a bit harder on Stiles.

There was no way Stiles would back down that easily. “What the hell, Derek?! So was this meeting about whether to kick me out or not? Real nice, not even giving me a choice in the matter.”

         “Why would you ever get a choice? When was this ever a democracy? The pack follows me, end of story. I don't want you around here anymore, you're weak. Lydia is immune and I can't have Jackson without her, and Allison is a hunter. But _you_ are just a human, Stiles. Just human.”

That stung more than anything anyone had ever said to him. Stiles could feel his chest contract in that all but familiar way, and he tries to shove it down. He tries to put on an angry face and defend himself. “Well ex- _cuse_ me for being human. You don't want someone doing all your leg work for you, collecting Scott when he's too busy with Allison to pick up his phone, fine. You don't want your researcher anymore? Cool. Find your own damn information.” It all sounded really pathetic, even to Stiles's ears. And by the sarcastic grin on Derek's face, he was thinking the same thing.

         “Stiles, who even asked you?”

Derek let him go and Stiles stumbled a bit, too focused on keeping his emotions down than to keep himself upright. The alpha hardly gave him a second look, turning away to walk back up to the house, throwing one last word in. “And if I see you around my property again, your next trip is to the hospital.”

And then he was gone. Stiles could feel the tree rough against his back as he slid a little ways down it, knees shaking in what he hoped was anger. He stared at the direction Derek had left in and tried to will himself to follow. To get in a last piece of his mind or at least stand up for himself. But he couldn't. The words “just human” and “weak” kept pounding in his head, and he was sure a headache was creeping its way in. Stiles had never wished to be anything other than himself, but in this moment there was nothing he hated more.

 

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It happened about two weeks later. Ignoring his friends was actually easier than Stiles had anticipated. Even Scott seemed to stay away, but Stiles caught stray stares every once in a while, with that pout Scott denied having. Not that they didn't make it easy to ignore. In classes no one talked to him. During lacrosse they only said what was needed, and even then since Stiles had started actually playing, there was little time for talk. His father noticed quite quickly, obviously. Although Stiles's new attention to his homework and being home on time did make his father happy, the Sheriff made a few attempts to get Stiles to talk about it. He usually dismissed it with “we're not seeing eye to eye at the moment” or something of the sort, and his father would reassure him that fights with friends were common things.

All the extra time, however, wasn't exactly spent on homework. At least, not school work. Stiles spent hours looking through old books and whatever he could find on the net about how he could make himself stronger without turning into something harry or scaly on a full moon. With all the supernatural crap out there, he hoped he could find a not-very-dangerous way to boost his rankings so the pack didn't see him as being weak anymore. Witchcraft was starting to look friendly, but Stiles really didn't want to be a witch. Even if some of the things he read promised he wouldn't grow warts or turn into an ugly hag, certain ingredients for some spells were way out of his league. He had a nagging feeling he was spiralling into bad territory, but his intentions weren't bad. He just wanted to be accepted.

It all seemed like a waste of time, until he found it. In the back of a book Deaton had given him on rituals, there was one for summoning demons. The more Stiles read about it, the more he thought there was a possibility of pulling it off. There was multiple paragraphs on how to keep them at bay or exorcise one if needed, and by the end of the book, he was starting to feel confident in the whole process. The ingredients were easy, he had plenty of salt, and he had gotten fairly good at drawing sigil. Alright, so his Latin could use some work, and he was almost tempted to ask Lydia for a few lessons, but the burn from the pack's dismissal was still fresh. This time, he'd do everything alone. He needed this.

Stiles picked a Thursday night to do the ritual. He'd told his father he had patched things up with Scott and was headed over there for the night. He packed away all the necessary tools for it into his backpack and headed down to the old train building Derek had once used. Stiles had checked it out earlier that week and there had been no sign of any of the pack. Setting about drawing the devil's trap took longer than he thought, but he wanted to make sure it was right. Demons were tricky, and Stiles was aware his mouth usually got him in trouble. Better to make sure the thing can't attack him while he tries to make some sort of deal.

He lit the seven candles in proper order, and grabbed his pocket knife before taking a deep breath. He could do this. He wasn't a stupid kid like Derek thought. He was smart and crafty, and he'd prove it by pulling this off. Heart pounding in he ears, Stiles slits his thumb and lets the blood drip into the bowl of herbs, reciting the Latin.

         “...Et ad congregandum, Eos coram me.” Lighting the match stick, he drops it and flinches as it flashes brighter than he expects. Looking ahead to the devil's trap he waits, feeling twitchy as his ADHD ticks in the back of his head. “Really, this is a waiting sort of deal? I thought I'd get a bit of a show with fire and smoke or something.”

_**Something**_ laughed behind him. Stiles whips around quickly to see a man standing inside the train. His hands were in the pockets of his suit, dressed in black and clean shaven. Stiles would have guessed him in his late 20's, if he wasn't so busy worrying his heart might beat out of his chest. “Who the hell are you?”

         “Well, that's certainly polite. I mean, you _did_ just summon me, kid.” The man grinned, taking his hand out of his pocket as he walked towards Stiles and extended it to him. “You can call me Bradley.”

Stiles stared at the hand, then back up to his face. “You're... you're the demon I summoned. I thought you'd be--”

         “Red? Have horns and a tail?” Bradley laughed offhandedly.

         “No, in the devils trap. You're suppose to appear in the devil's trap.” He was never trusting the internet again.

         “Oh, kiddo. If the room was smaller, you might have gotten away with that. But this warehouse? C'mon. And that circle is far too small. But good try, this is your first time, right?” His grin seemed off-putting to Stiles, too warm. “Let me say, this is definitely the first time I've been summoned by a newbie. How did you get that spell?”

Stiles swallowed, backing into the table he had used. “Uh, well you know.. books and stuff. Really, I'm quite the reader. You'd be surprised how much information is out there.... or not. I don't know how long you've, uh.. I mean, d-did I summon you from hell or..” He was grasping at straws and he knew it. This demon was going to kill him.

Bradley smiled- again, an uncomfortable sight for Stiles- and backed away, putting his hands up in a surrendering motion. “Relax, man. I've been top-side for a while. No need to fill me in on the deets of the human world.” Did he really just say “ _deets_ ”? “I do, however, want to know why you summoned me. Unless you're just some lonely kid who wants to spend his- what is it, Thursday? Thursday night talking to a demon.” He sits on a large crate, careful to wipe away any dust before hand. Stiles can hear his heart calming slowly, narrowing his eyes a little at the “lonely kid” comment.

         “I want to become stronger.”

The demon drops his head back with a laugh, bringing a hand up to scratch his neck. “Deals aren't really my thing, you know. If you new this ritual, you've got to know about about making deals with the crossroad demons.” He looks back at Stiles and his eyes shift completely black. “They have red eyes, I've got black. See the difference?”

         “Yeah, except I don't want to kill a black cat for its bones, and I have no inclination to sell my soul. I'm not here to make a deal with you, I'm here to get stronger.” He sets his jaw.

Bradley tilts his head, examining Stiles as his eyes shift back. “You thought I'd appear in that devil's trap and you would be able to boss me into doing what you wanted, right?” He clicks his tongue and gives Stiles a mocked pout. “Gee, sorry kiddo. Things don't always work out the way you want them too.”

Stiles grits his teeth. The absolute last thing he needed at the moment was to be sassed by everyone he knew _and_ some demon. “Don't give me some petty talk about 'life being unfair', I've already experienced it. I _know_ life isn't fucking fair. Why would I be desperate enough to summon a demon if life was fair, huh? God, this is so fucking typical. Look, spare me the insulting lecture and just kill me, alright. I really don't want to hear it.”

         “Kill you? Jeez, and you're not even going to humour me with why you want to be stronger? Got a girl you like? Need to win some sports match or something?” There was sarcasm behind his eyes, and it was grating on Stiles's patience.

         “Why? What is the point? I'd rather get this over with quickly, I'm done with being played around with.” The remark had a little more spite than he should have put it, but the “waiting to die” thing had his nerves shot.

The demon sighs, hopping off the box and walks back over to Stiles, who grips the edges of the table firmly. “Because I'm _bored_ , you know? Ever since the hunters have been busy with well...” He trails off, tipping his head to the side. “I haven't talked to someone that isn't like me in a while. Amuse me, and I might actually grant your wish.”

Stiles sucked in air like he'd been holding his breath, which was a big possibility. “I know I can't trust you...”

Bradley seemed to pick up on it. “But..?” He grinned a bit more.

Stiles worked his bottom lip between his teeth. “There's a pack of werewolves here...sorta. I mean, there is an Alpha, five Beta and two humans in it and they the worst example of a pack, but they use to be my pack. Or at least, they use to be my friends, until two weeks ago when Derek- their Alpha- kicked me out because I'm weak.” He could feel his shoulders tense with anger as he continued. “Allison is a hunter who's dating Scott, and Lydia is immune to the bite and she's with Jackson, but for whatever fucked up reason _I'm_ the weakest link. No, lets not kick out the girl who's entire family hates werewolves. Nah, lets keep the girl who brought back Peter and started more weird shit. Lets get rid of the kid who worked the hardest for a group of selfish fucking wolves, who never asked for much thanks, who never complained about being the only normal one there.” He knew he was getting awfully worked up in front of the demon, but he didn't care. He was finally venting some of his pent up anger, and it felt good. The surge of testosterone made his body feel warm and he gripped his fists tighter. “I don't want to be like them, I don't. Werewolves have so many weaknesses and the cost is just too...” He shakes his head. “But I want them to accept me. I want to prove that I'm not the weakest, and have them crawling to me for help. I hate this... this feeling of morality.”

He didn't bother to look up at the demon, who made a small humming sound. Stiles assumed the thing thought he was being a whiny child, and waited for the laughing to start.

         “A werewolf pack, you say? No wonder there aren't any demons in this town. I mean, sure it's small, but its got a lot of potential.” He grinned. “I get you, kiddo. Being cast out for being normal must suck. I mean, first its because you're weird, and now you have to be weird to fit in? This world has totally gone to the dogs! Ah, no pun intended.” Bradley sniffed and nodded once. “So you want to be stronger, huh? Yeah... yeah I could do that. Why not.”

Stiles blinked and looked up. “Re-really? You'll make me stronger? What's the catch, you want my soul?” He clutches at his chest like it might be pulled out of him. Bradley finally laughs at that.

         “No no, I told you I don't make deals. I can't take your soul.”

         “Then... you're going to do this for free...?” It sounded too good to be true.

         “Mmn, not for free, no. Of course not, you're smarter than that.” He extends his hand to Stiles once more. “I never caught your name, kid.”

He swallows and finally shakes the out stretched hand. “Stiles...Stilinski.”

         “Well Stiles, I'm very pleased to meet you. I think we'll get a long just great.” His grip on the handshake tightens. “In fact, I'd say we've got ourselves a deal.”

         “A deal? But we haven't talked about payment--” Without warning, Bradley's mouth flew open and Stiles could feel a rush of hot air down his throat, and then everything was black.

 

 

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Scott was the first to notice.

Stiles showed up like usual on Friday morning, quiet and still not talking to them. But he carried a new odour around with him that didn't sit well in Scott's gut, and by lunch he had had enough of the silent treatment and approached his friend.

         “Look, I know Derek kicking you out the way he did was harsh. We're all pretty mad at him, Stiles. But we're just looking out for you.”

Stiles looked up from his sandwich, giving Scott a very sarcastic look. “Right. Looking out for me.”

         “I still want to be friends, you know? These two weeks have been really difficult, and I think Derek is pretty mad at himself too for the way he treated you. He's been pushing us kinda hard in training.” He sniffs and wrinkles his nose. “Is that an egg salad sandwich? You smell kinda...funky today.”

Stiles shrugged a shoulder, shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. “New shampoo has a higher concentrate of sulphur in it. Your little wolfy nose ain't so great now, is it.” He collected his text book and stood up, looking Scott in the eyes. “I've actually decided I don't need you guys anymore, Scott. So its cool. You and your pack have fun with your little projects, I have other plans.”

As he walked away, he turned his head to smirk at the stunned Beta. “Oh, and give my regards to Sour Wolf, would ya? Tell him if he's going to kick people out of his pack, don't be such a bitch about it later.”

 

 

Derek wasn't impressed to say the least. “He said what?”

Scott pouted, playing with his shoe laces as the pack sat for a meeting. “He said he didn't need us. What the heck is that suppose to mean? We're best friends!”

Derek could almost taste the distress rolling off the teen. “What about the rest of you? Who talked to him today?”

Erica raised her head. “I made fun of him about his smell in Bio, but he gave me some lame ass excuse about shampoo or something. The kid reeks, and not just of eggs. I mean, the last few weeks its been angst and self pity, but today its like... its like there is something blocking all that. He feels muted.”

Boyd nods. “At lacrosse, he was more vicious than Jackson. I don't know what side of the bed that kid woke up on this morning, but he was moving like us.”

         “You think maybe someone--”

Derek growls. “He's not been bitten. All of you would notice if Stiles was a werewolf. Something else is up with him.”

Issac swallows. “Maybe he's wearing mountain ash on his person to keep us away from him? I always kind of thought that stuff smelled a bit weird.” There was a snort as Jackson bounced a lacrosse ball off a wall. “He wasn't that vicious. I've still got game on him.”

Lydia gave him a smug look. “He dislocated your shoulder when he checked you. Don't pretend it didn't happen just because you healed.”

While they bickered between themselves, Derek mulled to himself, weighing the options of having a meeting with Stiles. He hadn't exactly enjoyed biting out those words to Stiles, even if it was to keep him safe. Issues with the Alpha pack lead Derek to believe they'd go for the weakest link, and undoubtedly that was Stiles. Both Alison and Lydia had been marked and had a certain smell about them, but Stiles had no one. Despite any “urges” he might have had for the teen, Derek wasn't about to push something on to him without knowing Stiles could be safe first. In the confusion of saving Stiles or _caring_ for Stiles, he'd over reacted. And badly. Now Derek wasn't sure he'd be able to get things back to the way they'd progressed.

He'd been staring at a wall until a hand was suddenly waved in his face, Allison poking her head into his vision. “Derek? You need to go fix this. It was your stupid mistake to push him away in the first place.” Lydia nodded. “Ah yeah, he's _totally_ safer on his own. Jackson says he still reeks of pack, so I doubt if one of the Alpha pack met him coincidentally that they wouldn't pick up on it.” Her sarcasm wasn't helping.

Derek growls. “Shut up. I'm working on it.”

Scott finally stops fidgeting with his shoe and looks at Derek. “Well can you work on things with him faster? Jesus, this is worse than you two dancing around about your feelings.”

Fucking _Christ_ , McCall sometimes.

         “Scott.”

         “What?”

         “Shut. Up.”

 

 

Derek ended up making the trip out to Stiles's house Saturday evening, after carefully planning what he would say to him. The Alpha had decided to offer Stiles the opportunity to come back if he would undergo some training from Derek in exchange. The least he could do was teach him some defence, and Derek would have to be more on his toes about protecting Stiles. He felt confident in his pact, but they wouldn't all pull together. Not unless Stiles was there.

He was a little surprised, to say the least, that Stiles kept his window open. Although, Derek suspects Stiles still had some hope someone would come in through the window to try and solve things. Stiles had his back turned to the window, surfing things on his laptop. The immediate smell hit him hard enough that he actually took a step back, something crinkling under his foot. He looked down. There were books scattered all over his room, some open and some closed. Many, Derek could see, had writing or scribbles, some things crossed out even. As he picks one up to read “This is wrong” and “This works”, he hears the chair squeak.

         “You know its against the law to trespass, Derek? And in the Sheriff's house to boot. Hoooow 'bout that.” Stiles holds the word as he spins around to face the other, smiling lightly. “What do you want?”

Derek frowned. “What's with all the books? I told you to stay out of pack business.” _So much for apologizing._

         “What, all this? Who says its about you, Sour Wolf? Like I told Scott, I've got my own thing going on. It doesn't concern you at the moment.” He turned back in his seat, clicking on something else. “Besides, you've got your hands full with that other _Alpha pack_ , I get it.”

He could feel his mood growing darker. “How did you know about that?”

Stiles turns his head to give Derek a very knowing look. “Oh c'mon, I'm not an idiot. That's why you kicked me out, right? I'm not cool enough for your elite club because I'm weak. Message delivered. Honestly, that was probably be best thing you could have done for me. Now I get my own life.” He shuts the lid of this laptop and stands up, turning around to face him. “I've got my own project going, and I promise to stay out of your way as long as you and your pack leave me alone.”

Derek sighs loudly, dropping his head a bit. “That's not... look, Stiles. About that... I didn't mean to call you weak. There was... I'm not good about dealing with you, and logically--”

         “I'm not bonded to any one, I get it.” Stiles shrugs both shoulders. “Dude, I've read the books. Allison has Scott, Lydia has Jackson, and I've got no one. Its cool.”

Derek blinks, taken back by the blatant remark. “That's...yeah. Alright.” _That was it?_ “Good, so long as we're on the same page.”

He grinned, rocking back on his heels before walking past Derek. “Its a shame, though. That you didn't act on your impulses for me.”

_Wait, what?_ “What did you just say?”

         “Oh _please_. As if I'm blind to it. Well, not now, any way. I suppose after the fact is a shame. Had feelings for you too, Sour Wolf. And _wow_ jeez, what feelings those were.”

Derek could feel the hair on the back of his neck bristle, turning to look at Stiles's back. He didn't feel right. The was panic, deep inside of this muted feeling. He could see the body language Stiles was trying to portray, but none of them _felt_ real. And that smell... “New shampoo, huh?”

         “Yeah, really trying to grow out the hair. I think it looks better long, how about you?” His tone didn't sit right in the Alpha's stomach. Derek narrowed his eyes. “What did you do, Stiles? That's not a natural smell.”

Stiles stopped packing his backpack and straightened his back before turning around to face him. “I thought we agreed we would be staying out of each others business, Derek.”

         “Not if you could be endangering yourself. Scott still wants you as his friend, Stiles. I'm tired of listening to him complain. What are you planning?” Knowing the teen's habit for seeking danger, Derek assumed the worst.

         “Really, Big Bad. Its better we don't do this confrontation. I mean, Dad's home tonight, and I've got plans--”

A hand zips past Stiles's face as Derek leans in closer, audibly growling. “Answer my question, Stiles.”

The air went very stale for a moment, and Derek wondered if his senses were trying to pick up something. Stiles looked at him with a very blank face, and no matter how the Alpha tired to read him, his heart beat was calm. His voice was a low tone that Derek had never heard before. “I tried to give you a warning, wolf.” There was sudden pressure and Derek could feel himself being thrust back from the younger male as Stiles moved quickly past him, darting out his window in a way only Derek felt comfortable doing. The pressure released once Stiles landed surprisingly safely and took off, causing him to stumble forward a step. _What the hell was that?!_ He wasted no time jumping out the window after him, following the smell of sulphur as it leads around the block to a field. Stiles was already standing in the middle of it, hands in the pockets of his red hoodie. “Jeez, I thought werewolves were fast, Hale. What's all this bull shit.”

         “What the hell was that back there? There is no way you could pull any of that off with the simple magic tricks Deaton's been teaching you. You are not Stiles.”

         “Oh, clever dog! Wow, I really thought I could get you leave, damn. I guess I shouldn't have spilled the beans about this kids feelings, huh. Now I actually have to deal with you.”

Derek could feel the wave of anger hit him as his eyes flash, baring his teeth to the younger male. “Who the hell are you?”

Suddenly all Derek could see was black. He felt black and smelled back and everything coming off of Stiles was black. The punch to it all was when the teen's eyes turned black and grinned in an inhuman way. “Oh, just visiting.” The pressure surged again and Derek was sent flying back, rolling onto his front with a groan as he picked himself up. Stiles hadn't moved. “You know how long its been since I switched bodies? A while. I'd really been enjoying my last host. But _this kid_ , man... Derek. Boy is this one fun. I mean, setting aside the self hate and shit ass past, the crap he takes from you and your pack alone.. shit. He must have a big enough crush on you to put up with that.”

Derek cracked his fingers, feeling his nails extend. “That's Stiles's body? Then you're...inside him?”

         “Oh, correct on that one. See, I knew you were smart. Why the hell did you get this kid to do all your research for you? I mean, you saw the books. More than half of that stuff was wrong.” He motioned at Derek's hands with a nod. “You think you're going to scratch me out? Hilarious. Although, I think Stiles would actually like that. I mean, you should see the kinky shit this kid has brewing in his head. Damn, its a same I didn't get in here sooner. We could have had a little fun.” His wink only throws a log into the fury pouring off Derek.

         “Get out of him, or I will force you out.”

         “Oh, god are you actually serious? You know that'll hurt the kid too? Do you really think you can trick yourself into thinking you don't care? Watch.” He raised his hands and hardly blinked as he snaps the pinky of his own left hand. “Oh, woow, jeez this kid can scream. I wonder, can you hear him in here?” Not-Stiles taps his forehead, still grinning. “I'm surprised he's as loud as he is. Poor kid, he put up a pretty good fight in the beginning but I've learned a few tricks to getting them to quite down.”

Derek didn't like the way his mouth twisted and he really struggled with himself to keep from lunging at the thing wearing Stiles. There was no way he was leaving the kid alone now, but he couldn't bring himself to attack. He could _feel_ Stiles somewhere, and it was enough to make Derek hold himself in check until he could figure a way of getting whatever was in Stiles out of him. “What do you want? Why Stiles, why now?”

He actually laughed, and it was the closest thing to “Stiles” that Derek had heard from him the entire conversation. “That's the thing, though! I didn't start this. This was all Stiles. The kid _you_ thought was too weak to protect himself summoned a freaking demon and got himself possessed. Haha! And you helped him. You gave him the fire he needed to become this drastic. I'm just happy I was the one that showed up, I mean I couldn't have asked for an easier situation. Small town in Northern California and not one other demon, just run by a pack of wolves. How much easier could I have gotten it?” He pulls a sneer that Derek always hated on Stiles. “I guess I really should thank you before I start killing off your pack one by one. You've given me such a great opportunity here with this community, I think I can really _thrive_.”

It had been a while since Derek had heard his own blood thumping in his ears. _Demon? He summoned a demon? Jesus Stiles.._ He hadn't meant to drive the kid into such dismay that it would result in this. Nails bit into skin as Derek balls his hands into tight fists. “Would you let me have a chance to at least talk to him?”

         “Why, feeling the need to apologize? Gee, I don't know Derek. I mean, this kid is going to suffer enough, you really want to put him through getting to have last words with you before watching you die?”

         “Can I talk with him or not?!”

Not-Stiles sighs, kicking at the ground once. “Jeez, tough break for this guy. I suppose I could spare you the moment. I actually want to sit back and watch this little interaction.” He drops his head for a moment and Derek can feel the tension ease for a moment. Then the head pops up and the look Derek catches is unmistakably Stiles.  


         “What- Derek..?”

         “Stiles... listen, I don't know how long he's giving us, but I really need you to--”

A hand comes flying up and Derek stops talking, watching as Stiles pulls at his broken finger and starts chanting. “Exorcizamus te, Omnis Immundus Spiritus, Omnis Satanica Potestas... agh!” The teen doubles over in pain, gripping his finger tighter. “Omnis Incursio Infernalis Adversarii... nh- Omnis Congregatio et Secta Diabolica.. Ergo Draco Maledicte- argh!”

         “Stiles!” Derek runs to his side, but he gets pushed back, Stiles desperately trying to keep his distance. There were tears starting to stain his dry face, and Derek could see a struggle taking place behind the wet eyes that flashed colour.

         “Ut Ecclesiam Tuam Secura-ah.. Tibi Facias Libertate Servire- nrh fuck..” He was coughing up black smoke, voice cracking as he breathed heavily laboured. His voice was suddenly cold as he spoke again. “Give it up kid, you don't got it in ya. They don't want you, why are you trying so hard?” The cackling sent sparks up Derek's nerves, but he didn't get the time to retort to the demon before Stiles was talking again. “Te Rogamus.. Audi Nos! Go back to hell, you prick!”

Derek stepped back as a cloud of black smoke burst from Stiles mouth and poured into the sky, collecting together before it shot into the ground, singeing the grass. The teen collapsed in a pile on the ground, unconscious.

And then there was silence. Derek became aware of how loud his breathing had gotten and he quickly tries to calm himself down, crouching to pick up the limp teenage. “Shit Stiles... what the hell was that..”

 

 

 

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The first thing Stiles noticed when he came to was the dull throb from his pinky. He rolled onto his side a bit, trying to grab at his blankets, but there were none. Popping and eye open to take a look around, Stiles is immediately aware he is not in his room, nor is he on a bed. The uncomfortable lumps under him should have been a dead give away for a couch, and he takes the moment to sit up properly before stretching.

         “Looks like sleeping beauty is awake.”

Deaton is standing in the doorway as Stiles turns his head, expression unreadable, but arms crossed. Stiles sheepishly smiles back. “Aw, I didn't know you felt that way. You think I'm beautiful?”

         “I think you're lucky, damn lucky.” The vet pushes off from the doorway and enters his office, taking a seat on his desk. “I didn't give you those books so you could study _demon summoning_ , Stiles. What were you thinking?”

The teen looks at his hands, examining his purple tinged pinky, that was now wrapped in a splint. “That it was the easiest of all other options? I don't think I'd make a very good witch.”

         “Are you using humour to justify your actions to yourself, or to me?”

Stiles chewed on his lip. “What else was I suppose to do, huh? I don't have anything else. Your little adviser tricks with the mountain ash and will wasn't keeping me in the pack. I was being left behind... for being _normal_. Like its my fault I'm not supernaturally pumped up.”

         “The Stiles I know wouldn't have backed down so easily from being told off.”

         “Yeah well, maybe the Stiles you know is just tired of getting the short end of the stick.” He makes eye contact with Deaton, no longer fidgeting. “Maybe the Stiles you know doesn't want to be helpless.”

Deaton sighs, shoulders sagging a little. “Putting aside the idiotic idea of summoning a demon in the first place, you realize the chances of that exorcism actually working was very slim? I've never heard of someone exorcising a demon from their own bodies.”

Stiles looks bleak for a moment, eyes shifting to stare at the floor. “You learn a surprisingly horrific amount of information when you're sharing your brain space with a demon. Emphasis on the horrific part.” He looks at his pinky again, trying not to move it too much. “I knew if I got a chance at control I only had one shot at it. Pain is a good anchor.”

         “I doubt you would have gotten a chance if Derek hadn't shown up when he did.” Stiles goes tense and looks at his knees. “He'd like to talk to you.”

         “I don't have anything to say to him.”

         “Well, wouldn't that be a first.” Stiles didn't have to look to know the Alpha was hovering in the doorway, probably scowling. Deaton's face finally broke into an amused smile. “I'll leave you two alone.”

He steps past Derek, who doesn't take his eyes off Stiles for a second, moving into the centre of the room to stand right in front of the teen. Stiles desperately tries to look everywhere but Derek's face.

         “How is your finger?” Stiles snorts.

         “Really? That's what you want to talk about? Not “Hey Stiles, how emotionally wrecked are you?” or “Hey Stiles, I didn't mean to be a jack ass and kick you out of my pack”.”

         “Do you want to talk about the possession-?”

Stiles finally meets Derek's eyes, pupils blown so wide Derek almost wonders if the demon is completely gone. “What do you think.”

         “I think you're angry. I know you're angry, and maybe to deserve to be angry at me, but that doesn't mean you get to--”

         “No, I'm sorry, but you lost the chance to tell me what I can and can't do when you tossed me out of your “clique”. You called me _weak_ , Derek. You kept Lydia and Allison but you couldn't afford one more human? Did I really do so little for you and the pack?”

Derek made a stressed sound, trying not to roll his eyes. “You know that's not... I didn't mean to say it like that. I've never been able to have a normal conversation with you, and pissed off always seemed to do the job.”

         “Oh, well. Don't worry. I got the message loud and clear.”

         “Obviously not, since you were trying to find a way to prove me wrong.” Stiles went back to being silent, eyes not as angry as he looked back at Derek. “Could you...hear the things I said to the demon?”

Stiles nods his head, looking conflicted. “Then you know I made a mistake. I don't accept my faults very often, the least you could do is acknowledge my apology.”

         “Are you really telling me I _have_ to forgive you?” Derek flares his nostrils. “Alright alright, jeez. I forgive you for being an asshole.”

         “Stiles.”

         “Jerk? Douche-bag? Idiot?”

Stiles is not expecting the fist that hits the table, and he jumps at the noise, attention completely on Derek. “Listen! I'm not good at... being the Alpha yet, I know that. I still have a lot of issues I need to sort out, and I shouldn't have kicked you out of the pack because I was afraid you'd get hurt. I should have done more to protect you instead. You're invaluable to the pack, Stiles, and we need you. I need- I need..to be more honest about that.”

Stiles nods, fairly certain his face is turning the colour of his hoodie. “That um... that's all I really needed to hear, you know. Thank you, Derek.”

He nods once, lip twitching like he might crack a smile. “C'mon. I'm taking you home.”

Deaton greets them at the door with a small wooden box, handing it to Stiles. “For protection. You'll need to wear this on your person always. Demons tend to frequent people that have been possessed at least once. You've made a target out of yourself.” Stiles opens the box and examines the pendant, turning it over in his hand

         “I really gotta wear this thing for the rest of my life?”

The vet raises an eyebrow. “Unless you _want_ to be possessed again....”

         “Nope, no this'll do. Least it looks cool.” He quickly pulls it over his head and tucks it under his clothes. “Thanks. Does this mean you're not going to stop teaching me...?”

         “Oh, just the opposite, Mr. Stilinski. I'll be seeing you every Sunday evening for proper classes. Derek here seems to think you'll make an excellent adviser for the pack.”

Stiles groans, but he doesn't miss the look Derek gives him as his heart skips a beat at the idea of being the pack's adviser. It might not be as cool as being a werewolf, but he wouldn't pass the job up for anything else.

 

 

 

The car ride home was fairly quiet, and there was little traffic so early in the morning. Stiles was a ball of nerves in the passenger seat of the camaro, chancing glances at Derek, trying to think of something to talk about. When they pulled into the driveway, Stiles was surprised to see his father's cruiser missing.

         “He had an early morning shift. I told Scott to call and say you went to his house late last night, and that you misplaced your phone.” The look he gives Stiles was a softer version of his usual condescending glare. “Seems the noise you made last night startled the neighbours, and your father was called in to do a neighbourhood watch.”

Stiles drops his head a little, looking guilty. “Great. I owe him a greasy meal this week.”

Derek sees Stiles to the door and even up to his room, distastefully looking around at the mess he had left. “It still reeks of that thing in here.” He closed a few books, nose wrinkled.

Stiles looked over the papers scattered across his desk, crumpling a few. “Yeah, well. He didn't taste all that good either.”

         “You don't smell as bad.” Stiles could feel Derek looming behind him, breath short puffs on his neck as the Alpha breathed in his scent. “I don't like it.”

Stiles was becoming increasingly more aware of how fast his heart was beating and he turned, the small of his back pressing into his desk as Derek leaned over him. “That's- you... there isn't much I can do about that...”

         “I can think of a few things...” He knew better than to ask, the proximity and tension in the air made it clear enough for Stiles to know what the older male was hinting at. His tongue quickly pops out to wet his lips, and by the way Derek's eyes dilated and followed his tongue, Stiles bet he barely needed to push.

         “Really? Then by all means, if you want to share with the rest of the cla-- mnh-!” The kiss was forceful, tipping Stiles back until he thought he might fall, grabbing fistfuls of Derek's jacket and kisses back. It was wet and sloppy, and Stiles was pleased with how well he was keeping up the battle of tongues. Derek's hands were on his hips, thumbs edging under his shirt to touch and rub skin. The sensation sent shivers down the teen's back, and he gasped lightly for air.

         “Ah-should.. I should shower.” Derek pulled back enough to give Stiles a look he had never seen before, and he quickly corrected his mistake. “T-together. I mean, we should really have a shower, and uh, you can make sure I don't stink of demon anymore...?”

This seemed to do the trick. Stiles was suddenly being hoisted over Derek's shoulder and carried to the washroom. He can feel his growing erection press into Derek and tries to muffle a moan, managing to get a growl out of the man. “You're not making it easy for me to hold back, you realize that.” Stiles stumbles a little as Derek drops him and starts pulling his clothing off, making no show of it. He couldn't help but grin and slip both tops off. “Who asked you to hold back?”

Derek gave him a generous five seconds to get the rest of his clothing off before pouncing again, pushing the younger male into the tub and blindly hits on the water. Stiles would have complained about the first little spray of cold if his mouth wasn't busy being devoured by a hungry wolf, two sets of hands grasping desperately at each others skin. The water warmed just as Stiles let out a lengthy groan, shamelessly grinding himself into Derek's leg as it pushes its way between his legs. He'd _dreamt_ about this for ages, pissing Derek off enough until the Alpha would push him against a wall and kiss him quiet. He didn't care what sort of sounds were coming out of his mouth as Derek kissed down his neck and mouthed the skin at his collar bone, digging his fingers into the toned back hunched over him. Stiles could feel Derek's own arousal pressing into his hip and it made him gasp, eyes shutting as he bares his neck. The snarl rumbled against Stiles's neck as Derek panted out. “You know what you're offering, don't you.”

         “I know you admitted to having a man crush on me last night, and its pretty obvious how I feel about you.” He bucks his hips up into Derek's which earns him a strained grunt. “C'mon Derek, I'll say please if you want me to. I know what I want, and I know you want it too. Don't hold back, not after everything that's happened.”

Stiles can hardly contain the small yelp that slips from his mouth as Derek turns him around and shoves him roughly face first into the wall. Derek presses his body against him, and Stiles can't resist the little roll his hips give against the older male's cock. Derek finally moans out, one hand gripping Stiles's hip with bruising strength. “We're not doing that yet... just hold still.” Stiles feels Derek press harder against him as he leans over and grabs a bottle of shampoo, popping it open and drizzles the liquid all over the teen's ass. He moves his hips a little, dick moving easily between the two cheeks. Dropping the bottle he grabs reaches around to grab Stiles's member and gives it a few experimental tugs, earning Derek a pleased sound.

         “Ahh..fuck. Jesus your hands are huge-nh..” Stiles can feel Derek chuckle against his neck, nipping at it as he begins humping against him, hand stroking Stiles at the same pace. The younger male can hardly keep his voice in, panting and moaning the faster the pace gets, rolling his hips back as he starts to get a hang of it. Derek's mouth goes to town on Stiles's neck, marking him with a colourful arrangement of bites he's sure he'll have to explain to his father sooner or later. Stiles can feel his knees shaking beneath him, and he tries to make a note to appreciate Derek's strength after.

To be fair, neither of them expected to last long. Stiles came with a loud cry after a few well-timed tugs to his cock, Derek's breath panting against his ear ragged. Derek doesn't last much longer, digging his head into the back of Stiles's as he ruts against the teen sloppy thrusts, spilling his release across his already slippery rump. He keeps a firm hand on his hip, keeping them both up until the can catch their breath.

Stiles is the last one out of the shower, making sure to triple wash his hair in case Derek missed a place. He wrapped himself in a towel and followed Derek back to his room, where the Alpha was already making himself ready for bed.

         “You're staying the night...?” He hoped he didn't come off wishful.

Derek raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him. “You told me to make you smell less like that thing, so that's what I'm doing.”

         “So, you're making me reek of you instead.”

         “Is there a problem?”

          “Nope.” Stiles quickly crawled under the covers and turned as to let Derek wrap himself around the shorter male. “No problem at all.”

He had a lot more he felt he needed to talk to Derek about, but for the first time since Stiles could remember, he decided he'd done enough talking for one night and shut his eyes. They could figure everything out later. For now, he was content with this.

 

 

_~fin_


End file.
